


Soporific

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Banter, Domestic, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, Sleepy Sex, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 19:17:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18857395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: Some sleepy sex.





	Soporific

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Macdicilla](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdicilla/gifts).



It’s been a long day. In fact, it’s been a long two days, without sleep for either of them, and Drumknott, now that they are in the safety of their shared bedroom, on the assurance that they will be allowed to rest for the next twelve hours, is asleep on his feet, falling against Vetinari’s chest and letting Vetinari undress him. His fingers make quick work of Drumknott’s jacket and waistcoat, his shirt buttons, his trousers. It’s smooth, easy work, and Drumknott’s head lolls forward as he does so, his forehead resting against Vetinari’s chest.

He looks exhausted, and Vetinari feels his chest pang to look at him like this, so tired he can barely hold up his head, and when Vetinari lowers him back into the bed, he goes willingly, lying back under the sheet.

Vetinari joins him, lays his head on the soft-fleshed warmth of Drumknott’s chest and doesn’t complain when Mr Fusspot jumps up between them, on top of the sheets but burrowing between their bellies to seek out the warmth he finds there, and Vetinari lets his fingers play over the dog’s fur.

He sleeps for five hours – five hours, _in succession!_ – when he shifts, raising his head from Drumknott’s chest, and Drumknott, sleepily, runs a vague hand through his hair. Neither of them bothered with clothes, and now, Vetinari glances about for Mr Fusspot, who is on the other side of the room, sprawled on the chair with his legs in the air.

“He got too hot,” Drumknott mumbled, and Vetinari slid forward on the bed, sleep settling on his shoulders like a drawn-back cloak, setting his knees neatly between Drumknott’s thighs. Drumknott looked down at him, his eyes lidded with his own somnolent defocus, and Vetinari leaned down, dragging his mouth over flat surface of Drumknott’s navel. “Havelock…”

Vetinari felt himself smile as he kept moving, grazing the stubble on his jaw, the short bristles of his goatee, over Drumknott’s skin. He liked it, when they were like this together, when Drumknott was so tired there was not even the slightest anxiety over calling Vetinari by his forename, and when Drumknott was laid out with no schedule to distract him, to work to worry about…

He nipped at Drumknott’s neck, grazing his teeth over the column of his throat, not hard enough, yet, to leave a mark. Drumknott exhaled breathlessly, his legs spreading wider by an inch or so, his back barely arching off the bed.

“I believe I rather enjoy you like this,” Vetinari murmured, his fingers dragging up and down over the muscle and plump fat that lined Drumknott’s thighs, gently massaging the flesh there. “So _pliant_ … So biddable. Rufus, I believe I could do almost anything to you.”

“As usual,” Drumknott said, his eyes half-lidded in sleep, and Vetinari chuckled against the side of his jaw, kissing the skin there before he lowered his mouth to Drumknott’s collarbone and bit. Drumknott groaned lowly as Vetinari’s teeth caught at his skin, leaving their impression on the pale, fleshy skin, his hands clumsily grabbing, without any real intention, at Vetinari’s shoulders.

Vetinari slid his hand between Drumknott’s legs, cupping him with one easy hand, feeling him half-hard before Vetinari’s fingers did their work, curling about his length and fisting him slowly.

Drumknott’s noises were soft and soporific, but _continuous_ – he could be so _vocal_ , if Vetinari reached for him at the right time, if he caught him while he was sleepy and without his usual fine control. Not loud, no, never loud, but so _noisome_ , letting out moans and whimpers and sighs and gasps, and Vetinari smiled again, felt it drag at his lips as he dragged his thumb over Drumknott’s cockhead, felt him wet and wanting—

“ _Havelock_ ,” Drumknott moaned, but the usual urgency was gone from it, and when Vetinari let go, shifting in the bed to mouth over his belly instead[1], he only exhaled a breathy keen of noise. He left a flurry of kisses and wet, sucking marks over Drumknott’s belly, occasionally catching him with his teeth where the skin was sensitive, and Drumknott’s breathing was laboured, but when Vetinari looked at him…

Drumknott’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back on the pillow, and Vetinari dragged his teeth over the inside of his thigh, listening to the keening noise that eked out of his throat. Vetinari left a hickey there, one, then two, then a third, three livid marks that stood out pink and purple against Drumknott’s inner thigh… And then he moved to the other side, and Drumknott’s fingers twined in his hair.

It was a loose grip, not nearly as tight as his usual, but it tightened when Vetinari bit him, and Vetinari leaned in, exhaling over Drumknott’s prick, now hard and wet at the head and _twitching_ , and watching his hips give a little jump.

“’m tired, hurry _up_ ,” Drumknott whined, without any real complaint in his voice, and Vetinari leaned in and pressed a wet kiss to the base of his cock. Drumknott _pulsed_ , dribbling wet over his own belly, and Vetinari laughed at the little jerk of precome, reaching up and cupping Drumknott’s bollocks in his palm, watching his thighs tremble, watching his hips shift.

“So _demanding_ ,” Vetinari purred, kissing back up Drumknott’s belly, his chest, his neck, as he set his hand back, squeezing him, feeling his little thrusts into Vetinari’s palm. “I want to see you, Rufus.”

“Keep your eyes open, then,” Drumknott muttered. His own eyes were closed, his back arched just slightly from the bed, and Vetinari chuckled, leaning in and catching him in a kiss. It was slow, lacking in urgency, but he felt Drumknott’s mouth open up to him, felt Drumknott exhale, let out his desperate little noises…

Drumknott’s orgasm was slow, drawn out as Vetinari kept on touching him, feeling his moans give way to sighs, feeling his kisses lose their ghost of sleepy urgency, and when he finished, he broke away from any more kisses, his head falling hard and heavy on the pillow. Vetinari reached for a cloth, gently wiping them both off, and then he sat back on the bed, reaching to drag Drumknott up from where he lay.

“You _bastard_ ,” Drumknott complained, but the frustration faded off as Vetinari pulled him against his chest, and he sighed, burying his nose against Vetinari’s neck. Vetinari wrapped him up more in the sheet, and Drumknott melted like butter in his hands, settling in complete comfort. The comfort in question, of course, was like as not far from complete – Vetinari was a bony, thin man, after all. “Want you. Later.”

“Later,” Vetinari agreed, stroking his fingers down Drumknott’s back, and he watched Mr Fusspot’s head perk up and take in the new state of affairs, the way Drumknott was in Vetinari’s lap – rightfully, Mr Fusspot’s throne. “Oh no.”

“Let him up,” Drumknott muttered as Mr Fusspot dropped clumsily onto the ground, his fat little body scrambling, with some effort, up onto the mattress so that he could pad up toward them.

He whined, plaintively.

“You ass,” Vetinari said to the dog. Mr Fusspot looked at him with pleading, stupid eyes, and Vetinari sighed and lowered his arm, allowing him space to clamber up into the bundled sheets over Drumknott’s own thighs, so that he could flop down heavily against both their chests. “We need to walk him more.”

“We need to _feed_ him less,” Drumknott muttered, but he curled an arm over Fusspot’s rounded backside, his fingers pressing into the dog’s fur, and Vetinari felt him relax even further. Mr Fusspot gave a snuffling snore, and went limp.

“My boys,” Vetinari said happily against Drumknott’s hair.

“Didn’t finish my sentence earlier,” Drumknott said.

“No?”

“Want you _dead_.”

Vetinari laughed, and he brought his fingers under Drumknott’s chin, drawing him up and into another kiss. This one was the sleepiest of all, clumsy, but for a moment afterward they lingered, their noses brushing against one another, their foreheads together, and Vetinari cupped his cheek, watching Drumknott’s eyes close tighter, his features slackening, his breathing going slow and even.

He gently laid Drumknott’s head back against his shoulder, and stroked Mr Fusspot’s back as he listened to Mr Fusspot’s snuffling snores, in easy parallel to the Drumknott’s silent breaths as they were inhaled and exhaled against his neck.

 

[1] This made his injured thigh let out a twang of dark complaint, but he ignored it himself, and Drumknott would only question it in some hours, after he awoke for a second time.


End file.
